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Tag: <span>Sylum Advent: 2015</span>

Sylum Advent 2015: Archived Works

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We’re in the process of Archiving Sylum Advent 2015.  At this moment all the Artwork, Videos, and Fanmixs have been Archived and can be found on the Music and Art Pages.

The stories will be Archived over the next few weeks and we’ll make an announcement when these are done.  There will be a few stories that will not be Archived, due to the fact they are likely to go into a larger story , or someone who shall remain nameless *I’m looking at you John Reese* screwed his storyline and the stories that were posted will have to be reworked and likely go into are larger story arc.  Do not worry – these stories will stay on the blog for your enjoyment.   Any snippet/sneak peek will also stay on the blog.

Sylum Advent 2015: January 1st

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(Original Concept Art from Jurassic Park)

Title: The Hatchling

Author: Timothy Quinn

Sylum Timeline: Yet to Come

***

He threw everyone out.

Literally.

And he really didn’t care how it looked.

He wasn’t being employed for his diplomatic skills, or for having overwhelming social ethics.

Not that he didn’t have a pretty decent reputation already, for being a giant pain the ass, but after the eggs were successfully fertilized, he’d go sit every afternoon, regardless of how the technicians snickered at him, talking to his babies and readying them for the world outside.

Not that he cared much about others laughing at his expense. He wasn’t exactly interested in human behavior.

It wasn’t his area of expertise.

Much to his father’s perpetual irritation.

But he knew what had gone wrong before, and he knew how to correct it.

That was all he gave a damn about as he tossed reluctant and argumentative stragglers out of the Hatchery by the collars of their starched white lab coats.

Henry Wu had already threatened him with Security, and then threatened him with being fired.

Firing him had been Hammond’s big mistake.

“Been there, done that,” he muttered, slamming the door in the doctor’s face, and locking it firmly. He remembered the Geneticist from 20 years before, and figured that little had changed the man but passing time. Without Hammond keeping him on a leash though, he clearly thought he owned the place.

In Owen’s personal opinion, John Hammond had been a ridiculously arrogant little martinet, who rightly deserved everything he got. He just hoped the Dilophosaurus who ate him, didn’t get food poisoning.

Hammond’s self-righteous nightmare had left no room for ever admitting his own mistakes, and it seemed only fitting that the creation he had unleashed had turned and destroyed him in the end.

Which was certainly poetic enough, but the body count hadn’t been limited to just one man.

Or one of his animals.

This time though, it would be different.

Owen knew it, simply because he knew more than he had 20 years ago.

Not that anyone paid attention to him back then.

Well, only long enough to fire his ass for yelling at Hammond in public.

His father had wanted to walk too, in protest, yet stayed on at Owen’s urging to at least try and defend the Dinosaurs from human insanity a while longer.

That his father had later returned home as one of only 6 survivors from the collapse of that first park – barely able to function for a while, and utterly unable to talk about what happened – had left him guilt ridden and even more angry at Hammond’s bullshit. But it had also made him more determined than ever to correct what he reasoned he had at least been partly responsible for.

His quest for answers had eventually led him to 24 months of solid research on Isla Sorna – another one of Hammond’s unmitigated fucking disasters.

Who builds in a hurricane area, then abandons the entire place for won’t of a storm? Without regard for the animals? Or their future?

Still, it had permitted him chance to observe without hindrance, to document and assess, and learn what needed doing.

No one really believed any of the rumors at first, let alone that some fool might try again one day to build a functional dinosaur park for paying guests.

It was probably a good thing then, that he didn’t think much like other people, or he might never have figured out what really came next. He wasn’t as insane as people liked to believe. He was just happier with his animals.

Predators mostly.

Those he understood.

Sitting on his favorite stool, he perched over the artificial nest with absolute concentration, not wanting the negativity of the past too much at the forefront of his mind while he should be more properly focused on the birth taking place before him.

He’d beaten the total crap out of anyone he ever heard since that first park failed, go mouthing off and blaming his father for it. Though he knew his dad well enough to grasp that the man never knew about what he did for him. They were, after all, far too much alike in certain matters, for either of them to readily accept.

Which rather drove poor Dilios a bit daft now and then.

The egg moved.

If he concentrated on it, he could hear the tiny, yet remarkably strong heartbeat of the creature coming from within, and it made him grin even as his own sense of impending, life-changing drama began to unfold. For no matter how much he was tempted to, he couldn’t alter or otherwise unduly influence what was happening. Bad enough there really ought to have been a pair of eggs hatching, until a careless technician knocked into the delicate heated table and upset the well balanced environment to such a degree that one egg toppled and was broken, he himself had no right to interfere despite the role he most fully and completely intended to play in his animals’ lives. He had literally gone batshit all over Wu and his minions when he’d gotten to the lab that fateful afternoon, just a little over a month ago, to find an egg missing. No one had thought to call and tell him about the disaster. They simply said they’d ‘make’ another embryo grouping later. And that was that.

It had taken Misrani to calm him the hell down before he killed someone, and while he’d ranted furiously at the terribly polite and very reasonable Indian Vampire who had bought John Hammond’s dream in an assets auction, Owen wasn’t entirely sure he’d made himself anywhere near clear enough.

The Dinosaurs were not assets.

They were numbered.

Barcoded.

Registered.

Tagged.

And treated like product sure enough.

Which was so many shades of just plain wrong, he had no idea how to begin explaining it better.

Misrani saw investment.

And while he understood that his investment was indeed effectively creating new life, he had yet to be fully exposed to the consequence of it. At least as far as Owen was concerned.

With the first crack, came tiny scratching sounds, and for a moment he fumbled with his phone to snap a picture, realizing that as he had documented his chosen subject on Isla Sorna for future reference, he should do the same of the new park on Isla Nublar.

It was almost set to open; the final touches being put on shops, facilities and hotels. Systems were being tested and retested for animal containment and control, even as he sat there, holding the breath he didn’t need. But he was ready. His paddock was built to his specifications, his operating systems in place, his team getting geared up and learning how to work together for the ultimate good of his animals. He knew what he wanted, and he knew how to achieve it.

Careless technicians not withstanding.

He knew his people looked like low-life, former mercenary type reprobates, not neatly uniformed park attendants, but appearances were not what he cared about.

The Raptors were.

And they were absolutely not going on display like they were circus freaks or pets to be cooed over.

One crack became two.

Then three.

Four.

Then a spider’s web of pressure marks as the Hatchling tested its strength in what would be just the first of many occasions it might doubtless face in its life.

“That’s it,” he murmured encouragingly. “C’mon, you can do it.”

Owen had witnessed the birth of many animals in his time, from Alpacas to Zebras, Wildebeests, Lions, Cheetahs, even Giraffes and Hippos. He’d also worked with Sarah Harding to document observations on the raising of Stegosaurus, T-Rex and Triceratops. He’d gotten close enough to see Pterodactyls hatch, and Spinosaurus Aegypticus feeding.

Yet time after time, he came back to the Raptors, drawn with rapt fascination to the most cunning and powerful of ancient predators, just as he had been to the big cats of Africa as a boy.

He was comfortable with them.

And they changed his life in return.

His eyes widened as pieces of the egg fell off and a tiny claw appeared, scrabbling around in the outside air, tugging at the broken edges and pulling more away.

It made him laugh in delight, despite the grief at knowing there ought to have been two new births that day in Jurassic World. The remaining Hatchling was strong. And getting stronger.

He paid attention to every sound, sight, and smell, noting them all.

He would be doing this again.

He knew it.

Hammond had deliberately imprinted on every Dinosaur born to that first park, even the ones who ate him.

As though somehow they would think of him in terms of God, when their creator was anything but holy.

Owen snorted, just as the Hatchling did, its head popping out into daylight – or rather the lights of the sterile room that held the nesting pads of each genetically manipulated species in the park.

He laughed again as he was blinked at, the miniature Raptor eyeing him with perfect curiosity, a piece of shell on its face like a half-tilted hat.

“Hi!” Own said cheerfully, knowing he sounded stupid but completely at a loss to know what else might seem appropriate.

He got a squeak in reply, that was followed by a lot more frantic scrabbling as the Raptor struggled to tear away the membranes that had encase it and kept it safe.

It took less time than he had seen with such births in the wild.

The new species that had been agreed upon for Jurassic World, were in fact not as genetically pure as those he’d first observed with his father, or those on Isla Sorna. The only way any insurance company would underwrite a second theme part, or investors would enable more research and study, was by ‘calming’ the de-extinct animals down with a great deal more DNA from other – allegedly better understood – creatures. Naturally, Owen had argued like mad that such a thing was pointless, as any and all related discovery would be instantly tainted by whatever genetic traits the foreign DNA would imbue. Naturally, he’d been completely ignored, and told not to create problems where none existed.

To which he had replied ‘yet’, for nothing was guaranteed, no matter how well the scientists claimed they could engineer controllable life.

Ian Malcolm had infamously said, ‘Life finds a way’, but he’d been ignored too.

Consequences being as they may, Owen would have his first new Raptors on Isla Nublar, infused with the DNA of the Black-Throated Monitor Lizard from Tanzania.

And he had no idea how that would affect their development.

As per protocols already established, all the Dinosaurs for the new park were to be female, and the predators would be sterile.

Which also pissed Owen off.

Given that his animals were not to be viewed by the guests, he had actually won the fight with Wu about not using accelerated growth rates to populate the Pack more rapidly. He would have at least something natural in his Raptors, if nothing else.

Free of shell and membrane, the new Raptor sat for a second in its nesting pad, still staring at him, expecting some response on his part, and it gave Owen better chance to inspect her still wet and sticky scales.

She was beautiful – a dark, silvery grey with a sharp, white dorsal line that framed a richly shimmering blue streak that ran from the rear orbit of each eye to the very tip of her tail.

Still she stared at him, blinking with nictitating eyelids, before she finally leapt straight at his neck.

Instinctively he caught her, his hands rising to protect himself, and her tiny razor sharp little needle pointed claws sank into his palm, cutting right through the skin between his thumb and forefinger on both hands.

The two of them stayed like that, poised as though in mid-battle, seeking dominance and looking for purpose.

Owen, realizing what that truly meant, did his utmost not to cry out in pain, and squeezed her more tightly, pushing her steadily but firmly away from his face, despite the blood that was pouring quite freely down his arms.

It was everything.

That single moment.

It defined them both.

Finally, after what felt to the both of them like an age of struggle, it was simply over, and chilled by no longer being in the warm light of the heat lamp over the nest, the baby Raptor sighed, and squirmed its way out of his hands, up his right sleeve, and into the breast pocket of his flannel shirt. Her claws were perfect for climbing the heavy material, and not once did she break his skin that time.

Owen laughed, awed by her speed and agility.

She was a touch larger than he anticipated, and he found himself hoping her colors wouldn’t darken too much as she grew.

She needed to feed though, which meant he had to get her out of that laboratory environment, and into the real world.

“You good in there?” he asked, rubbing a forefinger over her head between her orbital ridges.

She yipped at him, making some very familiar sounding chirps and baby growls.

“Yeah, hungry. I know. You want food now. I get it.”

She blinked at the sound of his voice.

“So let’s go home.”

He stood up, stretching his back right when the door burst open and two big, burly InGen Security guards charged in like proverbial bulls in the proverbial china shop.

Owen’s first instinct was protection of his Raptor.

And secondly for protection of the other eggs that comprised at last a dozen different species for the park.

The Hatchling growled, unafraid and utterly undaunted as her Alpha leapt with Vampire speed to save a clutch of Triceratops eggs from hitting the floor. Like a juggler, he caught each one in midair as it rolled, snagging all three and slipping them with remarkable tenderness back where they belonged.

Thankfully, his blood that had been spilled in achieving dominance over the infant Raptor, turned to dust during the distraction, leaving no one else present, any the wiser.

And then the yelling started, Wu loudly demanding that Owen be thrown not just out of the building, but off the island entirely, accusing him of theft, intimidation and bullying, damaging InGen property and interference with the running of both the labs and the park itself, harassment, criminal intent and trespass. In fact, he sounded so very much like John Hammond in his outrage, that someone should dare come and upset his self-righteous empire building, that Owen seriously wished he could spit venom at him like a Dilophosaurus.

It took Simon Masrani to defuse what rapidly became a weird kind of Mexican Stand Off, for the guards who most certainly felt it their duty to try and act on behalf of their employer and his precious Dinosaurs, were incredibly reluctant to go against the man with the Raptor in his pocket, especially when said Raptor hissed at them all nastily, and bared her teeth most fiercely.

“Velociraptors are lethal at 8 months old, but that doesn’t mean she can’t tear your eyes out, rip your face open and eat your tongue for breakfast.” Owen felt no need whatsoever to beat around the bush.

The guards backed off, valuing their tongues and eyeballs as much as the next man.

Wu only stopped yelling when Masrani came in, the considerable number of people thronging the Hatchery doorway, parting for him the Red Sea before Moses.

The baby Raptor snarled at him, warning him to back off too, whereupon he eyed the little scrap of dangerous life far more respectfully.

“Mister Grady, you know the procedures for all Hatchlings in this park,” the other Vampire began, every inch the forceful, powerful, yet softly spoken businessman of enormous reputation. “The Raptors are not your personal property.”

“It has to be weighed, measured, tested for defects…”

Wu’s protestations were silenced by a wave of Masrani’s left hand.

Owen never moved. “We talked about this. No chips. No trackers. No barcodes. No product listing. This is my project. I don’t care which branch of the US Military funds it. This is on my authority. Mine alone.” He spoke calmly, for the sake of the Raptor’s patience more than anyone else’s. Making eye contact also helped; with Hammond, it had been perceived as a threat, but with Masrani, it was two men being honest with each other.

An elegantly coiffed, immaculately dressed red-headed woman in a white outfit and three inch pumps, strode purposefully into the room like she’d come to fix the entire problem herself. Yet she utterly ignored it all, murmuring in Masrani’s ear that there was a meeting he was late for.

Simon smiled generously, despite lines of stress and worry creasing at his face. “Ah! Of course! Yes, yes! So be it!”

Wu snorted in disgust. “That animal belongs in this lab!” he cried. “It has to be…”

Masrani stalked out with the woman, whom Owen imagined to be his latest Personal Assistant. But the man’s comments had been rather a bit too ambiguous for the park’s Chief Geneticist, who was still angry and upset that his creations were being encroached on by those who knew nothing of his genius.

Trying not to look smug, Owen also walked away, Wu’s voice ringing in his ears, screeching something about blood tests and calories and growth factors and disease potential.

“Get back here, this instant!!” Henry almost stamped his feet in frustration. He was not a man of violence though. He was simply used to be being obeyed.

With his usual aplomb, Owen flipped him off, raising the middle finger of his left hand and taunting the other scientists without so much as a glance back over his shoulder.

To his delight, the baby Raptor copied him, flicking up a clawed toe at those who were staring, and pointing, and muttering darkly.

“I’m naming it Velociraptor 001!” Henry was about ready to start throwing things, wondering how the hell Owen could get away with such blatant disregard. “You hear me, Mister Grady?”

Owen stopped dead in his tracks at the end of the corridor that lead out to the nearly completed Visitor Discovery Center, where an 8 foot bronze of John Hammond and his amber topped cane, was being currently installed.

The baby Raptor chirped at him and blinked most politely.

“She already has a name!” he growled in reply, stroking her head softly. “Don’t you, Blue.”

Sylum Advent 2015: December 31st

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Title: Always Mr. Reese

Author: Bj Jones

Sylum Timeline: As this particular storyline is still working out likely 2015/2016

ADMIN NOTE:  This teaser will not show up in storyline due to the fact Harold and Reese totally changed their canon.   So Enjoy the snippet but understand this is Non-Canon.

***

The gunshots were louder than normal.

“Mr. Reese?”  There were more shots, slamming of doors and then a soft sigh and what sounded like a body sliding down the wall to the ground.  “John.”

“Finch, you there?” His voice sounded pained.

“Always, Mr. Reese.”

“The number is safe, I got her and the kid out the back. They should be on their on their way to Maine, to family.”

“And you?” He asked typing furiously, pulling up feeds from all cameras in the area. None of them gave him a view of inside the warehouse.

“I’m fine.”

“I don’t believe that Mr. Reese.” He learned that lesson before John was Turned, even less afterwards. “Tell me the truth, John.”

“Nothing a good Feeding wouldn’t cure.” A cough ended the sentence, one that sounded wet and sticky. “I’m sorry, Harold.”

“John, help is on the way.” He typed even more furiously, anger settling into his stomach at the perpetrators who dare hurt his Mate. He sat up straighter, eyes wide at the rage that was going through him. ‘Oh so that’s what John feels like when I’m in danger.’

“Yes Harold, intensify it by at least 100 and you’re good.” John chuckled darkly, having felt his Mate’s spike of anger. Harold hadn’t learned how to hide or subdue his emotions over the Bond. It was one of the first skills John had mastered, not wanting his Mate to feel his physical pain.

“I hadn’t meant to say that out loud.”

“You have a habit of muttering into the phone while working.” A moan escaped as he tried to shift. “I’m not sure how many gunmen are left, don’t send Fusco or Carter.   I’ll survive a death shot.”

“I’m not letting them kill you!” Finch snapped.

“I’m already dead.”

“Not the point, Mr. Reese!”

He blinked as the computer began sending out signals, numbers and codes. He watched as all the information of Reese’s attackers popped up on the screens. Names, social security numbers, address, banking account information. And without even a stroke of the keyboard, he watched the money drained out of accounts, bolos went out, warrants being issued –eyes went wide when alarms went off at the local Firehouses near their homes.

He stared at The Machine, remembering what happened with Root.

In a small box on top of the screen was a picture of John marked by a yellow square – Admin.

He closed his eyes, still not comfortable with the implications.

“Harold.” The voice was fading.

“I’m here, John.” At least he knew it would be taken care of, but no matter how hard he or The Machine wanted it, they couldn’t stop the men from finishing off the ex-agent.

“Turn off the sound, don’t listen.”

“I’ll not leave you, Mr. Reese.”

“Finch!” He coughed the sound going through Harold’s soul.

Tears threatened to fall but he blinked through him. His thoughts went back to the time, when the CIA had tried to take John, hearing the shots, ignoring him when he told Harold to leave. Instincts had screamed to save him! Screamed to Turn him! But he hadn’t known how, his limitations to the Vampires society had left his education on all things Vampires sorely lacking. He risked his life, found John, and paid the doctor a lot of money to save him.

Two years later he almost lost him again.

He would have if it hadn’t been for Michael Westen.

Finch owes the man, for everything.

“I’m not leaving you John.”

Fusco and Carter were already on their way, closer and more capable of dealing with the situation at hand. He alerted Dr. Megan Tillmen, who had become their Chosen One, soon after the whole Vampire thing happened.

“Help is on their way.”

And he would stay on the line, and listen to his Mate in theory ‘die’. He knew the wounds had to be bad enough for the Vampire to succumb to them. He didn’t want to imagine the blood pool.

The sound of the door being busted open had him tensing. Gunshots followed, he couldn’t help the soft smile knowing his Mate wasn’t giving up without a fight.

Then he heard something else.

A crash of glass, the sounds of fists and flesh, something he had grown to distinguish over the years, and then a secondary crash.

“Well that was new.” John’s voice sounded sluggish and tired.

“Let’s get you out of here.” A new voice, not Fusco or Carter.

Finch panicked he had no idea who was touching his Mate. “Mr. Reese! John!”

“I got him, he’s safe.” The voice was deep, strong, reminded him of a man who knew violence, but cared. “I’m going to guess a text message will show up with our address. You’ll find your Mate there.”

Finch looked down to his phone, an address in Brooklyn was on the display. “Who are you?”

“A friend.”

***

Bear’s leash was gripped tightly in his hands, making the dog tense and alert. This wasn’t just a walk around the park.

He had researched the address, coming back to a Peter Burke, FBI Agent, White Collar division. The fact he was FBI had put Harold on the edge, but he would find his Mate and if necessary, would destroy the FBI.

He already had the Agent’s file, the wife’s business contracts and loans, their retirement funds, along with bank accounts. He also added the CI that worked with Burke and seemed to be living with them, his release papers and contract with the FBI.

With one swipe he would eliminate them.

Finch knocked on the door, he hid his surprise when Peter Burke didn’t answer it, but instead a dark haired older man, whose hair looked like it hadn’t been combed since the 70’s. What was more disturbing was the lack of a heartbeat.

Normally he wasn’t in tuned to such things, but John had drilled him consistently to pay attention to his surroundings, especially after Root.

The man stared at him for a few moments, then down at the dog. Bear was standing next to his owner, alert and ready to attack or defend.

“I’m taking you’re hear for Mr. Tall, Dark and Wounded.”

“My Mate.”

“Well that would explain the growling.” He opened the door wider to let them in. “And I don’t mean the dog, nice pet. Dutch Malinois?”

“Yes and he can kill on my command.” Harold looked around the brownstone. It looked homey. There were photos of the Burkes, along with the CI, a young man wearing a Fedora trying to look dapper. There was an open door on the far wall, which if Finch’s calculations were correct, would lead to the home next door.

Bear whined pulling towards it.   Finch patted his head, the dog always knew where his Alpha was located.

“I’m Nathan.” He gestured towards the open door.

“Mr. Finch.” He answered easily, making his way across the room.

“I thought I knew most of the Vampires in New York.” Nathan didn’t take offense to the cold look he got from the visitor, he was quite used to it. “It’s part of my job to know where everyone is.”

“And what do you do Nathan?” Harold asked, as he stepped into the second brownstone. The house was quite different than the other. The tones warmer, the floors were made a dark wood, many more bookcases, less photographs, but still felt homey.

“Spy Liaison for Serenity Clan.”

“Mr. Castle’s Clan.” Harold stopped and stared at him.

“Mal’s yes.”

He glanced around. “The Burkes?”

“Part of Tallikut.” He answered as he led him upstairs and down the hallway to the far room. “My Mate, Eliot works with Sylum, one of Nico’s Hunters. And Neal well he’s all over the place.”

“Neal Caffrey.” He said without pause. “I have one of his paintings.”

“An original?” Nathan asked opening the door at the end of the hallway.

“No, a Raphael he forged.” He stepped into the room and paused when he saw an old Golden Retriever lying on the covers looking forlorn at John’s still body. Bear whined, pulling towards the bed. He let the leash go before limping across the room, sitting down taking his Mate’s hand.

“His wounds are healing, he’ll be awake soon.”

He knew that voice.

Harold looked up to see bright blue eyes, and a wicked smile. The long hair was pulled back in a ponytail, kept out of his face by a bandanna.   “Thank You.”

“I got a text stating a Hunter needed help. I figured it was from Nico, he has a weird way of knowing these things.”

Harold focused back on his Mate. “John.”

Eyes fluttered then opened, a hand reaching up a smile on his face. “Harold.

“Ahh that’s adorable.” Nathan smirked at his Mate. “You do the same thing after getting shot.”

Eliot rolled his eyes. “Satchmo has been watching over him.” He petted the old dog, knowing they didn’t have much time with him. He grinned when the guard dog jumped on the bed and made his way to his Alpha and licked him.

“Bear!” Harold ordered him to lie down in Dutch.

Nathan smirked before taking a seat in the chair. “Can the next dog we get, do that?”

John moved slightly, sitting up back against the headboard. “Who are you?”

“Eliot Spence, Nico’s Hitter.”

“He never mentioned you.” John refused to let go of Finch pulling him closer, in case of a threat.

“I can say the same about you.” He frowned studying him for a few moments. “You remind me of someone.”

Reese snorted. “Unless you’re CIA I doubt we’ve met.”

“You have a similar look … ” he looked at Nathan. “Doesn’t he? Does he remind you of …”

“Nick.” Nathan smirked. “He’s a Meridius.” He glanced over at Reese. “Aren’t you?”

“Fuck.” Eliot groaned that would mean there were two in the city. “Well that explains a few things.”

John shifted to get out of the bad. “I thank you, but we need to go.”

“You should Feed, your wounds are still healing. You can stay for dinner.” Eliot pushed him back down, Reese stubborn to a fault, finally gave in when his weakened body betrayed him. He didn’t want them mentioning the four wounds to Finch. Eliot nodded, sensing the Hunter relax back into the bed. He smirked, “let the dogs play.”

They watched as Bear whined softly nipping at Satchmo whose tale was wagging, as he playfully nipped back. “The old dog doesn’t get much action these days.”

“I don’t think…” Harold shook his head not wanting to jeopardize John.

“You have to get used to the Vampire community at some point.” Nathan smirked at him, having a feeling Harold and John had little exposure to the vast wide world of Clans. “You can meet Peter, El and Neal.”

“Who?” John asked frowning.

“FBI, Mrs. FBI, and FBI Conman.” Harold informed him. John wasn’t surprised his Mate knew exactly who they were. Probably was ready to destroy them, if they thought they were a threat.

“Think about it.” Nathan stood up and grabbed Eliot, knowing the Mates needed time.

As they closed the door, John leaned forward and kissed Harold softly. “I’m sorry, I scared you.”

“I…” he paused. “The Machine gave me all their names, and destroyed them. Then gave me their boss. The one who wanted our number dead for figuring out what the Senator was doing. I made it look like he stole from his ‘partners’ then emptied all of his accounts into the Caymans making him look even more guilty, sent everything on his harddrive to every government agency I could, and then sent his sex video to twitter. And I did it with glee.”

“I know, Harold.” John held him close as he confessed. “I’ll burn cities…”

“While I topple governments.”

 

 

 

Sylum Advent 2015: December 30th

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Title: Protector of Rome

Author: Bj Jones

Sylum Timeline: Way way way in the future

Note: Download Sylum Anniversary Vol 2 – hit Assassins Creed Trailer … and read.

***

He moved with ease.

For he had walked these steps a hundred thousand times before.

The crowd parted.

First the media.

Then the people.

Finally the Cardinals.

The mass of red swept itself aside as he continued his journey to the steps of the Basilica.

He stopped a few feet past the Pillars of the Church, his focus on the Pope who stood before him.

Alexander VII.

Rodrigo Borgia.

Returned once more.

He had worked his way through the ranks of the Clergy, all the way to Cardinal. Bribed, threatened, and manipulated the College to win election at Conclave. Within six weeks of his taking office, his corruptions spread through the Church.

Indulgences sold for a price.

Mercy given for a favor.

He claimed that the plague of Vampires on this world was due to the sins of the Church.   Declared divorce once again unforgiveable, homosexuals were to be banned, children of unwed mothers not to be baptized. Forgiveness was not a blessing, but could only be earned.

The hungry grew hungrier.

The outcast became more disgraced.

The sick became sicker.

Alexander VII lived in luxury, wearing fine silks and gold crowns. His favorite Cardinals got cushy jobs, and extravagant homes, while those who opposed him were exiled and destroyed.

“Who do you think you are?” The Pope stared down at the Man in White.

“I was given the task of protecting St. Peters Church from those outside who would bring Her harm.” He paused, head raised as he looked brazenly at the Pope. “Or from those who choose to corrupt Her from within.”

“Giovanni Auditore!”

He smirked wickedly. “I will not have you corrupt the Vatican any further with your greed. You have no place in His Church, Rodrigo. You did not before. You do not now.”

“And you have no power here!” he growled snapping his fingers.

Vatican Police and Swiss Guards moved between their Pope and the well-perceived threat.

With a flare of the dramatic, the Assassin threw his hood back, revealing a familiar face to them. “My name is Ernesto Olivetti, Inspector General of Vatican Security. You know who I am. I command you men to put down your weapons, for this is not a Holy Man who was divinely Chosen, but a man who has sought power and greed for his own earthly desires.”

The Square went quiet.

The first to bow their heads in respect and walk away were his Vatican Police. For the story was legendary within their ranks, that on the day after Pius XVII had been buried, Inspector Olivetti’s office, along with his rooms in the Apostolic Palace, had been Sealed. The only thing he left behind, were his badge and gun, which were now located in the Vatican Archives.

It had been rumored that when the Church most needed Her protector, he would return.

Many had laughed at those who still believed.

But they held onto the hope that one day it would prove true.

That the Inspector would once again take charge of the Vatican, and prepare it for the safe return of Pope Patrick.

The Swiss Guard hesitated, but the steel of determination in the Inspector’s eyes, made them take a united step backward. They knew of the myths and legends just as much as the Vatican Police. Their histories had been intertwined for generations. It had only been until recently, with Alexander VII, that the two forces were once again separated.

The few men who continued to move forward, were easily disarmed and tossed aside.

None were killed. Only their pride was wounded.

“You think I would rely on loyal guards?” Rodrigo snapped his fingers, and out from the main doors behind him spilled mercenaries, armed with military grade weapons, and all wearing body armor. “Kill him!”

From the sea of Cardinals came the ‘Brotherhood’.

Ezio took his place at his father’s right.

Altaïr on Ernesto’s left.

Nikolai slid next to Altaïr, his rifle resting on his shoulder.

Javert stood quietly next to Ezio, sword in hand.

Aveline took point next to the Frenchman, while Shau Jun closed the flank next to the Russian.

Ernesto smiled.

Behind them, two men – one who had carried the name of Pius XVII and the other a Monseigneur – bowed their heads in prayer.

 

Sylum Advent 2015: December 29th

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Title: Enough

Author: Bj Jones

Note: As in typical Sylum – we take the storyline, characters and change things around.  The POI storyline is building as we speak, but I will tell you now.  There will be no Samaritan, no Shaw, and Root will not be ‘communing’ with The Machine and working with Harold.  And as we’ve established how protective Reese is of his Mate … well Root is a threat to Admin.

ADMIN NOTE:  This teaser will not show up in storyline now due to the fact Harold and Reese totally changed their canon.   So Enjoy the snippet but understand this is Non-Canon now.

***

He’d had enough.

He would not sit back and let her touch his Mate for a third time.

The first time Root had taken Harold, he hadn’t understood the deeply seated need to find him, destroy her, and take out anyone who got in his way.
The fact that The Machine had decided to give him numbers while he Hunted…? Well, they had a talk and came to an understanding.

Harold was priority.

The second time she took him, they’d only been Mated half a year, still settling into their new lives. He hadn’t yet met Nico, to fully understand the drive to burn cities down for his Mate.

His instincts screamed at him to put a bullet in her head, but Harold’s soft voice and the pain he felt across the Bond had him focused entirely on his Mate instead.

Root had gone catatonic over the fact that her ‘God’ wasn’t in the room. Part of Reese wanted to point out that to believe in a higher power you had to have faith in it, not hard evidence of its existence, but he hadn’t been much of a religious man since his recruitment into the CIA.

The other part of him had rolled his eyes at the crazy bitch’s drama.

The Machine flowed through all other machines, on the verge of being an AI according to Harold. Some of the original ‘DNA Coding’ was Jarvis, the snooty English AI that talked to them for The Machine on occasion. So it was effectively far beyond the servers on which the government might have first stashed it.

He knew computers, but wasn’t nearly as sophisticated with them as his Mate. Hell, compared to Harold, his own computer skills were the equivalent of turning it on, opening a browser window, and searching Google.

Besides, he’d worked for the Government, so he knew how they thought. Even if the servers were located at that ridiculous location at one time, they were certainly moved a long time ago, and likely been moved a few dozen times since.

But then again, Root was a few megabytes short of a hard drive.

So they locked her in an asylum, and went home.

Afterwards John couldn’t sleep. He would roam the library at night – had a route and everything – but he always brought ended up back in their room, checking on Harold. When he noticed Harold wasn’t sleeping well, he made sure to climb back into their bed, pull his Mate close, and let his weakened hip rest against his own stronger ones.

He was on Richard Castle’s Derrick Storm book series, and had gotten to the fourth installment as he lay there, unmoving, the perfect body pillow for Harold. He figured that since he had helped save the writer – well, Clan Leader – back when he was Turned by Michael, it was only fitting he should read the books themselves.

He was on his way home from depositing their latest number onto a bus, with enough cash to start a new life on the West Coast, when his phone rang.

He glanced down surprised to see the smiling face of Michael Westen.

“Should I be worried you’re calling me?” Reese answered easily.

“Is your Mate listening in?”

John paused for a moment, a signal on the screen indicating the Bluejack was closed. “He’s not now.”

“What the hell is going on with you?”

“We need to talk about Sam’s influence on your language.” John sidestepped the question as he settled onto a park bench.

“I trained you. I know my own tactics when I hear them.” Michael sighed on the other side of the phone. “I admit I had no idea how close a Sire and Childe Bond could be, as I refuse to acknowledge Don Jon as a Sire in the first place. But I can feel your anger all the way out here in Miami.”

“What?” Reese sat up in his seat.

“I’m sure you can feel Harold.”

“Yes.” It was how he kept track of his Mate. He’d learned to calm his own emotions down enough so Harold didn’t feel the backlash from his dealing with criminal elements. “I mute my anger so he won’t sense it.”

“That could explain why I am. Mr. Reese, would you care to explain the killing rage?’

Before John even knew it he was telling him all about Root, and his fears for her coming back to hurt Harold.

“Kill her.”

“It’s not that simple.”

“I have destroyed gangs to get to Sam.”

Reese could almost see Westen leaning on the bar in Burn Notice, watching Sam closely as they talked.

“Sam is Royal Navy turned Navy SEAL, ex-Pirate, Master at Arms, I know he can take care of himself and I still destroyed a gang in retribution. I can’t imagine how it must be for you, and the protective streak you already had for those you cared about. Add in Harold’s limitations…”

From anyone else John would’ve snarled at the thought of somebody saying his Mate was handicapped, but Michael, like him, always dealt in absolutes. And he was right. Harold had limitations. His instincts from the beginning had been to protect him, and those only intensified as they became friends. And as Fusco had put it so succinctly, those same instincts became purely vicious intent once they were Mated.

“Find her and remove the threat,” Michael stated simply. “If you can’t, I’ll do it for you.”

Reese closed his eyes for a moment, a warm feeling washing over him. He wondered at times how different his CIA career might have been if Michael hadn’t been Burned. But then, they’d both ended up on paths that lead them to better lives.

“You’re right.” He stood up and began making his way back to the library. “I’ll end it.”

“And John? If you need time away, there’s a place for the two of you in Miami.” With that Michael hung up.

Reese slid his phone into his pocket and slipped through the shrouded scaffolding, back into the domain he shared with his Mate, calming his emotions enough to ensure Harold didn’t figure out what was going on.

By the time he arrive though, there was a new number and his conversation with Michael was forgotten.

Until Root kidnapped him for a third time.

The old Subway platform was dead.

That particular abandoned station had been closed years before due to citywide budget cuts.

Root stood on the edge of the platform, a gun to Harold’s head, ranting about a secret tunnel under the city where The Machine lived! She knew it was close, and had to prove it.

Harold looked at his Mate in relief, closed his eyes, and when he opened them again, they held calm understanding.

He knew how this would end.

With a sad smile, he twisted around, brought the heavy end of his cane up and hit Root in the kneecap, knowing it would do enough damage for him to get away from her.

He dived to the left as shots rang out.

Root staggered backward teetering on the edge of the damp concrete, staring in shock at Reese, who calmly pulled the trigger a second, and a third time.

As she began to fall, a loud whistling rush of air hammered through the station as a train sped past, violently sucking her with it, dragging her away from the platform.

Harold stared in open-mouthed shock at the squishing noise her body made.

John looked up at the security camera, bowed his head respectfully, and mouthed the words ‘thank you’.

Within seconds he had Harold in his arms, holding him close. “I promised you Harold, she wouldn’t hurt you again.” He grimaced when he realized his Mate had been shot, not having felt the impact through their Bond. He’d been too focused on getting Root the hell out of their lives. “Let me take care of this for you. First time is always the worst.”

“Ow! That hurts!” Harold glared at his Mate, who was busy poking the bloody wound to his right shoulder. “Why would you ever choose a career where this is an occupational hazard?”

“I don’t know Harold, I tried to quit, but some jackass told me I needed a purpose.” Reese smirked at his Mate, as he pulled out the bullet. “Souvenir?”

Harold looked up at John, a soft smile on his face, knowing just how much this man would do for him, to protect him.

And with that, he promptly fainted.

“I’ll keep it then.” John pocketed the bullet, and scooped up the smaller man in his arms.

Maybe this time he would dress him in the burgundy pajamas when he got him home. They always looked good on him.

 

Sylum Advent 2015: December 28th

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Title: The Past, Present, and Future

Author: Bj Jones

Note: This is a rework of the Doc/Marty story.  The timeline got screwed up (irony yes I know) and the old stories were pulled and a new one is being reworked.  The goal had been to have this posted for Advent but RL got in the way – so instead you get a sneak peak!

Sylum Timeline: Summer 1985

Note can find full story in Sylum Archive

***

“You want me to do what?” Jimmy asked as he stood in front of his Clan Leaders desk.

Everyone in the Clan always knew if you get called into Nico’s main office in his section of the Manor, it was serious. When they had added the wings built in the early 1900’s, the Clan Leader had his private office and study built, as a counter to Timothy’s Library and Tony’s Art Gallery. Artemus had taken over the Manor Office, which for decades the two had shared, and always grumbled about Nico borrowing it for Manor or New Orleans related meetings. Warrick was taking bets when more renovations would be done to separate the large office downstairs into two.

“Doc Brown is bringing his future Mate to the Manor. He wants to get him away from the family for a while.” Nick leaned back in his chair, studying the Hunter. “The kid knows nothing of Vampires. He thinks he’s just going to a ‘summer camp’.”

“So I have to babysit while Emmett does what?” He fiddled with his black hat, not quite sure to feel about this assignment. “What about Gerard?”

“He ranted, screamed, tried to threaten me, remembered I was his Clan Leader, then ranted some more.” Both Jimmy and him couldn’t help the smirk. “It’s not the weirdest thing I’ve asked of you.”

“No.” Hickok had to admit. “But I’m not good with kids.”

“He’s seventeen.”

One of Jimmy’s eyebrows went up, before he settled into one of the chairs and waved his hand to explain.

“Emmett’s been working on something, what I’m not sure.” Which really hadn’t sat well with Nico in the first place. Especially when he discovered the moron had sold most of his family lands and heritage to fund the secret project. “He met Marty McFly while he was teaching summer school, right before he entered high school.”

“I’m sure Doc took that well.”

“Ran out of the classroom flailing and screaming, leaving a trail of papers behind him.” Nick smirked. He had gotten the story from a few of the Chosen Ones in the area who had seen it. “Marty later hunted Doc down asked, if he had done something to upset him.   Emmett instantly melted and been taking care of the kid since.”

“And going batshit, well more than the normal?”

“He turns eighteen in October, but still in high school. He’ll be a senior this September.” The Clan Leader sighed, when he had finally got out of Emmett what the hell was going on, he was ready to strangle the scientist himself. “He was held back in elementary school, so he’s a year older than most of his class.”

“What does Doc want to accomplish while he’s here? He wants us to tell him?” The Hunter wasn’t sure what they were supposed to be doing.

“I think he wants to see if Marty could handle the concept of Vampires. More importantly I think he wants the kid to have fun. From what I understand, the Marty’s home life isn’t horrible but it’s also not nice.” Nick leaned back in his chair. “Just look out after him.”

Jimmy nodded as he stood, slipping on his standard black flattop hat. “When do they arrive?”

“In an hour.”

“Seriously!” Jimmy channeled his Sire, glaring at Nicolaus. He shook his head, before heading for the door.

“Thanks, Jimmy.”

“Don’t thank me yet.” The Hunter called out over his shoulder. “He may run tail the moment he meets any of us and head back to California.”

Nico chuckled. He really had no idea what Doc was thinking or what he really wanted. Emmett brown, had been practically dropped on their doorstep by his Sire, Leonardo. The two though could talk for hours, drove each other insane within days.

Emmett had stayed close to the Clan for a couple of decades, then decided to head back to Hill Valley, to settle back into his family home. He popped up for holidays, and made sure to write Nico a letter at least twice a year to keep him updated, but mostly Doc kept to himself.

When his letters became more frequent, and started talking about Marty McFly, Nick had sent Artemus and Jim out to check on him. It was how he discovered the family fortune had disappeared along with the Craftsman House. Artemus had ranted for days, then with a push from Nick, started checking to get at least the heirlooms. He also had a habit of dropping cash into Doc’s accounts.

But neither of them could find out what he was working on.

Nico knew something was wrong, when Thomas handed him the phone stating it was Doc. The scientist had rambled for a few moments, then dropped the bombshell about bring Marty out to New Orleans. That he told the kid, that it was a summer camp for city kids to see a working plantation. Nick’s head had hit the wall hard enough that it left a mark.

Doc then mentioned that they were at the airport and their flight left in a few hours. Nico hung up on him and started working out a plan. Lucky Jimmy and Noah had been in New Orleans dealing with a case, he kidnapped Jimmy to handle the kid, while he dealt with Doc.

He about cried with joy when Rossi walked into the Manor. He was about to call him, get him back to New Orleans to deal with Doc and his still illegal Mate. The doctor had been in his home in Virginia, where he escaped to when couldn’t deal with the crazy that was Sylum Clan.

After a quick briefing of what was going on Rossi, went to his rooms and office in the Underground to prep. Nico settled himself on the porch with Jimmy on his right, waiting for Doc to show up with Marty.

Van Helsing went to the airport to pick them up, no one trusted Doc to make it to the Manor. He would likely end up on a tangent, taking Marty all over Louisiana and Mississippi before getting lost in Alabama or Texas.

It wouldn’t have been the first time.

The Hunter’s eyes were drawn to the kid instantly.

He watched as Marty took in his surroundings, eyes wide in astonishment. Quickly taking notice of the patched jeans, t-shirt one size too big, and worn shoes. He had a feeling he was wearing mostly hand me downs and the older brother was likely bigger. The skateboard though explained the shoes.

“This is great Doc!” Marty’s voice was filled with awe. “It’s a real plantation.”

“It’s been modified over the years, hence its lack of Historical Registration and a few threatening letters from purists in the area.”

“Doc.” Marty’s pointed at the front of Sylum Manor, with its Greek columns, wrap around porch and rocking chairs. “It’s a plantation house. You’re only missing Colonel Sanders.”

“He’s out back with the chickens.” Jimmy commented before he even realized he opened his mouth.

Nick glanced sideways at him, but the grin indicated he wasn’t upset.

Marty laughed, making his way up the stairs. He held his hand out to Nick first a big smile on his face. “I’m Martin McFly, but everyone calls me Marty.”

“Welcome to Sylum Manor.” Nick took his hand, surprised at the firm handshake. “This is Thomas.” He motioned behind him as the English Butler stepped onto the porch. “He’ll show you to your room.”

“Let me take your bags, Master McFly.” Thomas reached down and grabbed the small suitcase, looking around to make sure there wasn’t anything else.

“Wow a real honest to God English Butler!” His eyes went wide, then promptly blushed. “I’m sorry.”

“No problems, Master McFly, I’m fairly used to it.” Thomas gave him a genuine smile. “Is this your only bag?”

“Is it too much?” Marty’s smile faded slightly. “Doc told me to pack what I had or needed.”

“No troubles, Mr. McFly.” Thomas gestured towards the open doors. “Head inside and up the stairs, you’ll be staying in the Roman Section. The Manor will provide you with everything that you need.”

“I don’t really need anything.” He walked into the parlor stopping to gape at the Grand Staircase. “It’s like out of Gone with the Wind.”

Nico bit back the chuckle at his Butler’s slight shiver.

“I’m afraid to touch anything. It’s all so old.”

Jimmy snorted, biting his lip from letting out the laughter.

Thomas sighed softly. “The Master’s children have done more damage than you could ever do.” And with that he led him up the stairs into Nick’s wing of the Manor.

The two watched as the kid almost trip on the stairs, to busy gaping at everything. When they disappeared past the first set of Roman Doors, Jimmy turned on Doc. “One suitcase.  He’s here for six weeks.”

Startled slightly at his Hunter’s outburst, Nico glanced over at the cowboy, but decided to stay out of the conversation.

For now.

“He showed up at my place with a backpack.” Doc gave a frustrated sigh, he’d been tempted to just buy him a new wardrobe. But knew Marty wouldn’t accept it, and didn’t want to bring undo attention to their friendship. “I sent him home to pack more stuff. He had to borrow a friend’s suitcase, and I’m sure raided his brother’s closet.”

“All rooms are furnished for guests.” Nick looked between the two, settling his focus on Emmett. “Thomas will make sure any and all of Marty’s needs are met.”

“First by feeding him,” Jimmy muttered. “He’s too thin for an eighteen year old boy. I thought you said his family wasn’t abusive.”

“They’re not.” Emmett walked up the stairs, heading for the house. “But they aren’t…” He paused trying to find the words. “Don’t get me wrong they love him, and he loves them. But his dad is a bit of a weed and mom hides in a bottle. The siblings have their own lives, and they are always tormented by their dad’s high school bully, Biff Tannen. How Marty is sane at all is a mystery.”

“I’m sure it has something to do with your influence.” Nick patted him on the shoulder. “You have one of the guestrooms in the Underground. Get unpacked, shower and change. Lunch will be served in an hour.”

Doc nodded absentmindedly as he headed for the hidden entrance on the left hand side of the staircase.   As the door closed behind him, Nicolaus looked at his Hunter. “What was that?”

“What was what?”

“That!” He pointed up the stairs to his wing. “You were ready to take Doc out.”

“I was not.” Jimmy ran a hand through his hair, then sighed. He could tell by Nico’s expression he wasn’t getting away with not saying anything. “The kid reminds me of me. I ran away at fifteen. Skinny, all arms and legs, scared out of my mind. I was on the street until Enright picked me up, when I finally got away from him and ended up with Teaspoon, my confidence was shattered. He has that same look.”

Nick’s expression softened, it wasn’t often the gunfighter talked about his life before the Pony Express. “What do you plan on doing?”

“Teaspoon gave me hope. Timothy gave me a second chance.” He looked up the stairs, ears straining only slightly to hear the kid stammering over the room and that it was way too much. “I want to give him both.”

Sylum Advent 2015: December 27th

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Title: Hackers R Us

Author: Bj Jones

Sylum Timeline: Spring 2010

Author Note: This teaser is now considered Sylum Non-Canon as it Harold and John decided to change their storylines, with it everything around adjusted.

***

Corporal Jacob Jensen had known the moment the suits walked into the room, it wasn’t going to be good for him.

And as usually he was right.

They ‘escorted’ him off the base, into a black unmarked SUV, sometimes the stereotypes were too real. The next minute he knew he was locked in some dingy motel room that had seen better days in the Nixon era.

“Does my Commanding Officer know I’m here?” He doubted it.

Clay didn’t take to people stealing his team, let alone his Mate. He was even more protective after the whole situation with Max.

He knew that his relationship with Clay was moving slower than it was with Cougar, but despite those doubts he knew his Mate would do damage trying to find him.

And if that didn’t work he would let Carlos loose.

“He’s been informed of your new assignment, Corporal.”

“So that would be a no.”

They glared at him, but at least he wasn’t strapped to a chair with a light in his face asking for name, rank, and serial number.

The head ‘spook’ dropped a military style laptop in front of him. He looked at it, back at the goon, down at the laptop, back up … “And?”

“Hack it.”

“I’m not sure what you think I do. I’m just a Tech Specialist. I fix computers, not hack them.” He raised his hands, giving them the innocent wide eye look that never worked on Clay or Cougar.

“We know you work for Stark, and if he’s letting you use his tech, you’re the guy we want.” The agent smirked. “And Stark doesn’t work with geeks who only ‘fix computers’.”

Jake made a note to later blame Tony for this.

He opened the laptop and at first doesn’t see anything odd or unique enough that would make the US Government kidnap a ‘hacker’ and lock him in a hotel room.

Then he got through the login and settled onto the home screen.

Oh.

This was a homemade laptop.

And it’s got some security goodies on it that makes Jensen drool in envy.

It was Geek heaven.

This made Jarvis…

Wait.

Wait.

He dug deeper into the computer and was stopped, blocked with every move he made. Almost as if it was countering him, learning what Jensen was doing and building walls and traps.

It was what Jarvis did to him while he beefed up his skills.

He sat back and stared at the laptop then back at the goon. “Where the hell did you get this?”

“If we told you we would have to kill you.” He smirked down at him.

Jensen swallowed.

This wasn’t going to end well for him.

***

Two weeks.

He had been locked up in the damn room.

Two weeks of Feeding off stray animals he found when they had let him outside, or the rare moment he fed on one of the goons who had fallen asleep. That particular goon wasn’t seen again, he was pretty sure there was a bullet in his head, body never to be found.

He could feel Clay and Cougars concern, fear, and anger. The last few days the Mates emotions had settled into the burn the world to the ground stage. It was only his own sense of calm assurance that likely had saved the world from burning.

A small part of him took joy in knowing Clay was as pissed as Cougar.

He tossed his glasses to the table, rubbed his face and now three day growth of beard. “I can’t do it.”

“What?” The head goon asked.

“I can’t get into this.” He put his glasses back on and gestured towards the laptop. “Anytime I get close to finding out anything I’m shut out and have to start over. Whoever designed this, designed it so guys like you can’t steal it.”

They glared at him, while he glared back.

The one glimpse he did get had been beautiful, elegant and almost alien. It was beyond anything he would ever be able to do, and the only reason he likely got as far as he did, was his work with Jarvis. Mainly because the coding he did see reminded him of Jarvis. Well if Jarvis had found a lady AI and got married and had a little Jarvis.

When he realized he wasn’t going to get anywhere within the machine, he wrote out in his own code, an apology of sort. ‘Don’t mean to intrude. But I have to say your beautiful and I wish I could get to know you.’

“There’s nothing you can give us.”

“Look.”

He sat back in the chair that he’d been sitting in for two weeks. His back ached, legs were numb, and he stopped feeling his ass about five days ago. He was tired, hungry, wanted his Mates, specifically wanted them to hurt the idiots, and was just done.

He knew full well his life was on the line here. He was a dead hacker whether he broke into it or not. He just hoped they didn’t chop his head off, cause that would suck.

“I’m pretty sure whatever this is…” He waves at the laptop. “… is way out of your league. I know you’re going to shoot me after this, so let me just say this. I’m good. I’m fucking good at what I do. And I can’t get in it. Hell at this moment I’m not even sure Stark could, though if you tried this routine on him, it won’t end well for you.”

Did he mention he was done?

Shoot him now, let his Mates find him, he can recoup have a vacation, and then hack his file to state he’s alive again. And if any goon comes looking for him, he’ll sick Cougar on him and wave his hand around ‘I’m not the Jacob Jensen you’re looking for’.

“Get him out of here.”

They covered his head with a black cloth. He rolled his eyes as they dragged him out of the room into the SUV. He listened carefully to follow the route, but there was little he could distinguish to indicate where he was located.

He was pulled out of the vehicle and dumped.

He waited until the sound of the SUV left, before ripping off the cloth, only to startle at a man standing in front of him. He cursed himself for not noticing the heartbeat. It was calm, steady – someone who didn’t get worked up when shooting someone in the head.

Jensen stared up at the man, he could tell he was ex-soldier, likely had been recruited from the military..

‘Kill him.’

“Something isn’t right.” His blue eyes were studying Jensen intently, as if looking for something.

‘John do you job, dump the body, all they need is some teeth.’

They continued to stare at each other.

Jensen saw the finger tighten on the trigger, he closed his eyes refusing to flinch as the gun went off.

“It’s done.” He clicked off the com and lowered his weapon. “You’re not a traitor.”

“How do you know?” Jensen asked calmly, wondering when he had gotten used to having a good pointed at his head.

“You’re a soldier.” He grabbed his arm and pulled the hacker up. “A soldier they decided was dispensable. Go.”

“Just like that, don’t they need proof?” Jacob asked not quite sure what the hell was going on.

“Want to give me your teeth?” The smile was unnerving.

“Won’t work.” Jensen shrugged. “Believe me it won’t work. Just tell him I fell into the lake. I’ll take care of my own records.”

He nodded. “Next time Corporal Jacob Jensen do not get involved.”

“I didn’t.” He gave him a smirk. “You know who I am, and you would be?”

“John.” And with that he turned and walked away.   Jensen watched him cross the open field, settling onto a motorcycle and took off down a small country road.

“Jensen!”

“Jacob!”

He turned to see Clay and Cougar rushing towards him. He fell into Cougar’s arms, exhausted and worn out. He felt Clay’s hand on his hair, soft French words in his ears. When Jacob shifted slightly, he saw Clay’s eyes glued on the small road where the operative had left.

“How did you find me?”

“Jarvis.” Cougar pulled him closer. “He’s been tracking you as best as he could. When a notice hit the local police that there was a body fitting your description he alerted us.”

“Where are we?”

“Outside New York.” Clay answered wrapping his arm around Jensen and Cougar. “Stark has a hotel room set up in the city, afterwards we’re going to Rome.”

“Why Rome?” He asked as they moved to a waiting SUV.

“Who in the right mind would take on Ernesto?” Cougar smirked.

“Best place we can hide you until we figure out what the hell is going on.” Clay checked out the surrounding area. His body tensed when he heard a car drive off. He hadn’t heard or seen anyone when they’d pulled up.

Whatever was going on, if they dared touch his Mate again. They would become acquainted with a certain set of skills that Clay hadn’t used in a long time.

~ 2016 ~

Jacob smiled as he watched Warrick lead Nick around the dance floor.

They looked happy.

Not that they weren’t in the first place, but marriage was agreeing with them. Well at least the first five hours of it.

He glanced over to see Clay talking with Javert, while Cougar and Ernesto had their heads together. He was relieved to see Kiernan heading in their direction.

He made his way to the dessert table, picking up a plate and grabbing a few items.

Jensen walked along the covered porch aiming for the front of the house, to get away from the noise. When he turned the corner, and ran into someone he yelped and jumped back. Only to yelp again and jumped further.

“Fuck.”

The man looked down at him, a small smile creeping onto his face. “Well that explains a few things.”

An older man with a limp walked up to his side. “Mr. Reese…” He paused and looked at Jensen. “Oh hello.”

“Who the hell are you?” He looked between them.

“John Reese.” He held out his hand. “You were a Vampire then?”

Jacob set his plate on the railing, wiped his hands on his pants, getting a groan from the shorter one and took John’s hand. “Yes.”

“I really should’ve shot you.” Reese smirked. “They discovered your hack into restating you were alive.” He then gave him a darker look. “And when they realized, I hadn’t killed you …”

He frowned. “Shit… what the hell was that?” He looked over at the other man. “And who are you?”

“Mr. Finch.” He answered, not offering his hand. “And that was my laptop, Count.”

Jacob looked between the two, wondering if his life was going to get even more complicated.

 

 

 

 

Sylum Advent 2015: December 26th

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The next week of Advent will be something different.

These will all be snippets/teasers of major stories that are in the works.

Yes, we’re evil teases – why do you ask?


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Title: The Writer and The Detective

Author: Bj Jones

Sylum Timeline: 2010

***

Kate Beckett hated this part of her job. She dreaded having to tell the family that their loved one was dead. With a deep breath, with a last glance to her partners Esposito and Ryan, they stepped out of the elevator, down the hallway and into the party.

It was Richard Castle’s last Derrick Storm Book release party.

She loved his books from the moment she bought the first story on a whim. They helped her through a rough time, and soon after became a guilty pleasure. As a cop she found Derrick Storm somewhat believable, as if the writer knew just enough, or someone gave him insider information.

Considering the who’s who at the release party she wouldn’t be surprised at where Castle got his information. She spotted the Mayor, Chief of Police and could’ve sworn a Senator.

Kate always wanted to meet him, but never had the guts to go to a reading or book signing. She had no idea what to say. ‘I love your work’ even she rolled her at the thought.

It pained her that she was going to meet her favorite writer by telling him, his brother had been murdered.

Alexander Rogers, two years older that Richard Castle, found murdered at his office.

Mr. Rogers was an architect and one of the most famous ones in New York. His company was experts at restoring older buildings, and creating new ones to blend into all neighborhoods. He didn’t have the same flair has his brother, but he had always joked that Castle took after their mother, Martha, a diva from Broadway.

His wife died in a car accident fourteen years prior leaving Alexander to raise his daughter Alexis by himself with help from Martha. From what Kate could tell Castle adored his family especially his niece by how much he talked about them throughout the years in interviews.

There was little information on Richard Castle.

It was actually shocking, considering that when he was in New York, he was at the grandest parties, hottest clubs, and a beautiful woman on his arm, there was little about his personal life. Just that during college, he decided to drop out and write a book, much to his mother and brother’s dismay.

Even more shocking it was a hit, after it had been rejected 21 times.

Rumors stated he had a cottage somewhere in Alaska where he liked to write, but no one had ever seen it or gotten pictures.

Kate flashed her badge at the hostess informing her, that they needed to talk to Mr. Castle. The hostess nodded, walking them over to the writer and his family.

Rick turned and smiled. “Alicia has Alex decided to show up yet? Or do I need to send Mother to drag him from his office?”

Kate’s heart dropped. “Mr. Castle.”

The writer’s smile faltered, but held. “And what brings such a beautiful woman as yourself to my party.”

She couldn’t help the eye roll, and ignored the snort from her two detectives. She flashed her badge. “I’m Detective Kate Beckett with 12th Precinct.”

His eyes had moved to Esposito, then over to Ryan and back to her. “How can I help New York’s finest?”

“Richard?” Martha stepped up to her son, Alexis moving closer sensing something was wrong.

“I’m sorry to be the bearer of bad news.”

“Alexander?” Martha asked, shaking her head. “Is he all right?”

Richard Castle closed his eyes, feeling his heart break. He knew that look, written it more times than he could count. “How?”

“I’m sorry to inform you that Alexander Rogers was found murdered in his office.” She paused then looked directly at Richard. “What makes this more painful, it was done as a copycat of one of your murder scenes in Flowers For Your Grave.”

Castle turned and pulled Alexis into his arms, while holding Martha close. His eyes looked across the room to see Simon standing by the bar, along with Wade and Evans. With a shake of his head, his Mate and the two Hunters stayed where they were.

“Martha.” He whispered into her ear, before kissing the top of her head. “Take Alexis home, with Simon.”

The older woman wiped her tears, looked up to see Simon standing by the bar, his eyes soft and gentle. “Will you…”

“I’ll take care of everything.” He pulled Alexis closer to him, rocking the young teenager gently.

“Don’t leave.”

“I have to find out what’s going on, but I promise I’ll be home soon.” Richard gave her a tight smile. “I promise you, I won’t leave you.”

It was then Simon stepped up to the small family. “I’ll take them home.” He gave Mal a nod, and led the two grieving woman away.

Richard took a deep breath, eyes flashed with anger at the person who dared touch his Chosen One. He gave a second nod towards his Lead Hunter, he knew they would follow and await instructions. There were times he hated Nico for handing over Ben Wade. Having a Meridius in the Clan was one thing, having one that had an edge to him was another. But right now, right now he was going to use the skill sets Ben Wade was good for.

Castle turned around, looked at the Detective. In the time of crisis and pain, his sister had finally returned to him. He would find who killed Alexander, have them destroyed, and then get to know Kate Beckett. “Detective, lead the way.”

Sylum Advent 2015: December 19th

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Title: Emergency Surgery

Author: Gil Grissom

Summary: A typical night in the ER turns trauma surgeon Adam Franco’s life on its head.

Author’s Note: These are two brand new characters within Border Clan. You can find their bios on the new wiki. This is part of probably what will be a bigger story later on. 🙂

Banner: Taibhrigh

Link to Sylum Archive

 

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